The Real Life of Francesco De Medici
by L.Hawk
Summary: What was life like for young Francesco, growing up the bastard child of the Pope? A lot crazier than you might expect. Rated for mentions of abuse and mental illness.
1. prolouge

Prologue- The messed up life of Francesco De Medici:

He was born to a woman who was in love with the otherwise married Pope. That much everyone knew. What they didn't know was that the Pope had really loved his mother. They didn't know that the woman in question came from a noble family but had been disowned when she married a common man who had abused her constantly until she snapped and killed him and made it look like an accident. They didn't know that she had three daughters by her husband, the oldest who was calm and wise the middle who was hotheaded and violent and the youngest who developed schizophrenia at age eight and was never treated. They didn't know that she also had twin daughters by the Pope; since they were bastard daughters, they had no potential and therefore didn't get their DNA tested like Francesco had. They didn't know that the Pope had come to visit his son almost as much as to visit his lover and that he had been nice to the older daughters as well, so much so that they had cried the day of his funeral, when the three of them had stayed home with the twins while Francesco's mother escorted him to the funeral. They knew that the Pope had pulled strings to get his son baptized so he could be absolved of the sins of being a bastard child but what they didn't know was that he had also pulled strings to have his two daughters baptized. They didn't know that Francesco's oldest sister Maria had been forced to grow up too fast, left in charge of two babies and a schizophrenic when she was only twelve. They didn't know that his sister Vincenza had been put in the stocks once for 2 days as punishment for beating up a man who called their mother a whore. They didn't know that he spent a great deal of his childhood telling his sister Damiana to ignore the voices in her head. They didn't know that he had comforted Lucia and Giovanna when they woke up with nightmares. They knew that he had been sent to live with the Archbishop Alphonzo and Caterina and Alessandro when he was twelve. What they didn't know was that he constantly wrote letters home to his other sisters.

After that they knew his life's story. He entered the seminary at age fifteen and was ordained a priest. When he was eighteen he served for three years as a chaplain in the Vatican army before he was recalled to Rome when a Cardinal died and made Cardinal by political maneuvering by his Uncle, who was hoping that Francesco would help him get elected Pope, but that backfired when Caterina asked for his help getting Alessandro elected instead. Part of the reason he helped her was because he wanted to get back at his uncle for dragging him into the political arena, but he forgave his uncle once he found his niche as head of the inquisition.

* * *

A/N-I was always curious about Francesco's background, and this so I invented a half sister for him, which ultimately turned into three. I based the ages on the assumption that Allesandro was a baby when his parents died and that he is 16 during the series and Francesco is 23 and was 8 when his father died and is two years older than Caterina. This makes Maria 11 when the Pope dies and Vincenza is 10 Damiana is 9, and the twins are 2. The following chapters will be in the form of conversations, letters, ect. Between Francesco and his siblings and half siblings.


	2. Rooftop

An Eleven year old Francesco pulled his two little sisters Lucia and Giovanna up the stairwell of the building, away from their apartment where Vincenza and Maria were arguing. Damiana followed him and he didn't try to stop her. They lived on the top floor of the apartment building. It had the cheapest rent and was all they could afford. The stairwell continued though and ended in a trapdoor that could be opened upward onto the roof. The roof was slanted as all roofs were, but it had a very gentle slant, so much that it was easy enough to climb on, provided they listened to what Maria had told them and stayed away from the edge.

The four of them climbed out onto the rooftop. Francesco sat down and Lucia and Giovanna sat down on either side of him. Damiana sat down as well and none of them said anything until Lucia broke the silence by saying, "Why do you always come up here?"

Francesco thought about it for a minute before replying, "I like being able to see the big picture, to see that God created a whole world."

Giovanna frowned, "What do you mean?"

Francesco, "Sometimes, it feels like there's nothing in life but our little apartment, because we never go out. But God created this whole earth," he gestured at the city that spread out before them, "and someday, I could leave here and go anywhere I wanted to."

Lucia nodded, "Like to Rome."

Giovanna added, "Maybe someday you could even work for the Pope."

Francesco chuckled, "Maybe."

Giovanna frowned and said, "but you can see all this from the window. Why come up here?"

Francesco sighed, "I guess I just like how quit it is up here."

Damiana nodded in agreement, "No voices."

Lucia squeezed his hand and asked, "How come Maria never comes up here?"

Francesco bit his lip, "It makes her too sad to remember."

Lucia frowned, "Remember what?"

Francesco sighed, "Before my father died and Mama had to back to work, Maria used to come up here all the time. She was the one who showed it to me. But since she was the oldest, she took on a lot of responsibility. She doesn't like to remember what it was like to be so carefree because then she feels guilty."

He looked at the two confused faces and sighed, " Besides, she does come out her, at night sometimes, to look at the stars." Lucia and Giovanna seemed at least partly satisfied with his answer and lapsed into silence. Damiana was silent as well, and Francesco could tell she was deep in thought.

Just then the trap door opened up again and Vincenza poked her head out, saying, "It's time for dinner."

Francesco carefully lowered Giovanna and Lucia down to Vincenza then pulled Damiana down with him, back to the tiny apartment, where it was easy to forget that God created a whole world. At least Vincenza and Maria had stopped arguing. It was disconcerting. Maria so rarely argued with anyone. It was always him and Vincenza that argued and fought. They always made up though. They had to. How else were they going to live with each other in the tiny apartment?


	3. A Knock

They were sitting at the kitchen table, Maria, Vincenza, Damiana, Giovanna, Lucia and Francesco. Their mother had to work late again, so they were having dinner without her. There was three fourths of a loaf of bread, one fourth of it having been set aside for their mother, sitting in the middle of the table, and Maria had made a thin soup, a bowl of which had also been set aside. They were eating quietly when they heard a knock at the door. They looked at each other. Francesco stood up and made his way to the door. He always answered the door when their mother wasn't home. It was the unspoken agreement, since he was man of the house. A widow people were willing to deal with, but not her daughters.

Francesco set down his spoon and made his way to the door. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. His mother wasn't due to be home for another hour at least, and the landlord never came by this late, and he hated dealing with strangers. He then pulled open the door. His eye widened with surprise as he saw who was standing there. It was a man dressed in priest's robes. The only priest he knew was Padre De Luca, and the man before him was defiantly not Padre De Luca. He didn't want to rude to a priest though, so after a few seconds of shocked silence he said, "Good evening, Padre."

The priest shrugged and said, "You are Francesco De Medici I presume?"

He nodded mutely. The priest said, "Take the 9:30 train tomorrow from Napoli Centrale going to Cologne. The Archbishop will meet you at the station when you arrive."

Francesco frowned, "What does the Archbishop of Cologne want with me?"

The priest thrust an envelope into his hands, "There is a letter explaining everything enclosed along with your ticket." And with that he turned and walked away.

Francesco closed the door shakily and headed back into the kitchen. Maria looked up, "Who was there?"

Francesco sat down and tried to gather his thoughts, "A priest," he finally answered, "Didn't say his name."

Vincenza frowned, "What did he want?"

Francesco held up the letters, "I've been summoned."

Vincenza raised her eyebrows, "By…"

Francesco lay crossed his arms on the table and slumped forward, resting his chin on his wrist, "The Archbishop of Cologne."

Maria frowned, "What does the Archbishop of Cologne want with you?"

Francesco shrugged, "All I got was this letter." He held it out.

Marie reached forward and took the letter, unfolding it. As she did so a ticket fell out. Vincenza grabbed the ticket and looked at it. She frowned, "It's one way."

Damiana murmured, "A path of no return."

Lucia heard this and said, "You're going to come back, aren't you?"

Francesco frowned, "I'm sure he was just being cheep, only buying me a one way ticket."

Giovanna looked worried, "Then how are you going to get home?"

Francesco bit his lip, "I'm sure I'll…"

Maria cut him off, "You might want to listen to this." He fell silent and she began to read, "Dear Francesco, I am aware that you are the illegitimate son of my late brother in law, Pope Gregorio XXX. Due to your heritage you are put in a compromising position. Now that you about to reach a critical age of twelve years, it is my prerogative to make sure that you live up to your responsibilities. Therefore I think it best that you come live with me in Cologne, where I can make sure you receive a descent education and upbringing. If you fail to come to Cologne, the consequences will be unpleasant, but please know that I have nothing but your best interests at heart. Sincerely, Alfonso D'Este, Archbishop of Cologne."

There was stunned silence for a moment, before Vincenza said, "Whatever the hell the consequences are, we'll deal with them."

Francesco said, "No."

Vincenza slammed her fist on the table, "You're not seriously thinking of going, are you?"

Francesco glared at her, "What choice do I have?"

Vincenza glared at him, "You could ignore the letter and stay here with us. Just because some random guy…"

"He's a fucking Archbishop!" Francesco cut her off angrily.

She said, "You just like him 'cause he's getting you out of this hellhole."

He yelled, "That's not true. He said there'd be consequences for ignoring him. You think I want to bring that down on Mama and you?"

She yelled, "Leave her out of this. This is your own fucking decision to leave us."

She stormed out of the kitchen and he called after her, "Is that what you think?" She ignored him and a crunch was heard as she punched the wall of the bedroom she shared with Maria and Damiana. He stood up and grabbed the chair he had been sitting in and lifted it above his head before flinging it onto the floor with an animal roar. Lucia and Giovanna clung to each other. Damiana covered her ears with her hands and squeezed her eyes shut. "It's not fair," she said to nobody in particular.

Maria sighed and said, "I know, Piccolo Fratello, I know."

A/N-In Italian Piccolo Fratello means little brother, although it is not my native tongue, nor do I speak it fluently, so I'm not 100% sure.


	4. Apologies

Francesco lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He had backed up all his belongings into a rutsack and lay down to sleep, but his mind refused to stop spinning. Lucia and Giovanna had ended up in their mother's bed. He wasn't surprised. She needed the physical comfort as much as they did. When she had gotten home that night and read the letter, she was almost as upset as they were, but had agreed there was nothing to do but comply with the archbishop's summons.

That left him alone in his room, unable to sleep. He felt a weight on the side of his bed as someone sat down. He didn't need to look to know who it was. After a few minutes Vincenza spoke, "Listen, what I said before, I didn't really mean it. I know you don't have a choice. I just…"

"Spoke without thinking," he supplied.

She sighed, "Exactly."

Any residual anger he felt toward her melted away then. He took her hand in his and squeezed it. She rubbed her thumb in a circle around his. Neither of them spoke for almost a minute. She said very suddenly, "I wish you didn't have to leave."

He replied, "Yeah, well, If wishes were horses…"

"I know," she cut him off. They lapsed into silence for a bit before she said, "We're going to miss you, you know."

He sighed, "I know."

She said, "I mean, you're the man of the house, for one thing. And our brother. I'll say, yeah I have four sisters, and my piccolo fratello too, even if he doesn't live with us. God, I'm going to miss you."

He said, "You shouldn't use the name of the Lord in vain."

She jerked her hand up and hissed, "Is that all you can think about at a time like this?"

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him calling softly, "Wait, 'Cenza." She stopped moving away and he said, "I just…who's going to remind you about stuff like that when I'm gone?"

She sighed and sank back onto the bed, putting her hand over his where it clasped her wrist. She put her other hand on his head saying, "It's going to be a long day tomorrow. You should get some sleep."

She gently removed his hand from his wrist. He took her hand and asked tentatively, "Stay?"

In answer she lay down beside him and pulled the blanket over both of them.


	5. First Meeting

Francesco was nervous. He was standing at the base of a beautiful, ornate staircase in the Archbishop's mansion outside of Cologne. He was wearing a borrowed suit, since the Archbishop had deemed his traveling clothes too shabby to wear when he met Alessandro and Katarina.

That was exactly why he was nervous. He was meeting his half-brother and half sister for the first time. He could deal with a half-sister, he'd dealt with 3 back home, but he wasn't sure how to handle a half-brother. He'd never exactly hung out with other boys back home, what with them all making fun of him for being a bastard child. He'd stayed home with his sisters instead.

He put his hands in his pockets very carefully. The pants were too big and he was afraid if he pushed too hard on the pockets, they might just come off. He snorted quietly. That would be awkward. After what felt like an eternity, but in reality was only a couple of minutes, he saw the Archbishop returning. Following him was a young woman, barely older than Maria, dressed in a maid's uniform. A young girl was striding confidently next to her, while a little boy tried to stay hidden behind their skirts.

The archbishop smiled and put his arm around Francesco's shoulders. He tried not to shrink away. He knew it was rude, but he'd only just met the man. The Archbishop said, "Here are Catarina and Alessandro."

Katarina stepped forward first. She tilted her head and studied him. She had an intense gaze, but he met her eye and didn't look away. He wasn't sure what to say, so he waited for her to speak first. She said, "You must be our half brother Francesco."

He nodded, "That would make you Katarina."

She nodded and held out her hand, palm down. He reached out and took it hesitantly. The Archbishop had told him that it was proper to kiss the hand when one met a lady of the court for the first time. He wasn't sure about trying it with his own sister, but clearly it was what she expected, so he bent is head down and kissed her hand.

He was surprised by her reaction. She simply accepted the kiss silently. He thought about his other sisters. Maria or Lucia or Giovanna would burst into fits of giggles if you tried to kiss one of their hands, and Vincenza would probably snort, then pull her hand away. He couldn't even fathom a guess as to how Damiana would react.

He straightened up and smirked slightly, and said, "It's good to finally meet you." He wasn't lying per say. His father had told him about Katarina and Alessandro when he'd come to visit, back when he was alive and Francesco had always been kind of curious about them. He'd seen them at the funeral, but they hadn't interacted at all, and they'd faded to the back of his mind in the face of more immediate concerns like his fights with Vincenza, confession, trouble with the other boys in the neighborhood etc. Now he was finally meeting them properly.

He looked on quizzically as Katarina tried to pull the young boy, who he presumed to be Alessandro out. The kid looked terrified and sighing impatiently he did the only thing he could think to do. He bent down on one knee so that he was one eye level with the boy and tried to smile disarmingly.

Katarina let go of her brother's shoulder as Alessandro stepped forward timidly and said, "I'm Alessandro."

Francesco replied, "Nice to meet you, I'm Francesco."

Alessandro looked at the ground, "How come we've never met if you're our brother?"

Francesco bit his lip and looked up at Katarina briefly. The boy was about the same age as Lucia and Giovanna. Katarina frowned ever so slightly. He looked back at Alessandro and shrugged, "I've wondered the same thing myself. It's just the way it is." That wasn't a complete lie. As he had gotten older, he had asked his father on several occasions why he couldn't meet Katarina and Alessandro. He was pretty sure he had understood more than Alessandro though.

He stood up and glanced back at Katarina. It seemed she approved of the way he handled the question because the frown had disappeared from her face. He smiled at her, then turned to the young woman who had come in with his brother and sister. She was extremely pretty, with long dark hair tied up in a bun, a few looses pieces framing her delicate face with down cast green eyes. He gulped nervously, but tried to hide it as he asked, "And you are?"

She looked startled at being addressed and stuttered, "M-M-Maria, Young Master," before curtsying.

He was startled at being addressed as Young Master and looked between the Archbishop and Katarina, both of whom were looking at him as if he were crazy. Before he could say anything, the Archbishop took charge of the situation and said, "Francesco, please come with me," before pulling him toward the stairs.

He looked back and caught Katarina's eyes, which were narrowed in confusion. He shrugged and followed the Archbishop up the stairs.


	6. Akward Questioning

Francesco had his own room. That was something completely new to him. There simply hadn't been enough rooms in his mother's miniscule apartment back in Naples. The Archbishop had left him there and told him to stay until dinnertime, which wasn't too far off. His rutsack, which contained all his possessions, had been brought up and was sitting on the bed.

He had just started to unpack his few material things when there was a knock at the door. He opened it. Katarina was standing there. The thought never crossed his mind to deny her entrance and he stepped aside to let her in. She hesitated and he snapped, "Well are you going to come in or not?"

She stepped into the room gingerly and he moved back to his unpacking, pulling his clothes out. She blinked as he pulled out his patched and threadbare shirt and asked, "Are those your clothes?"

He looked sideways at her and furrowed his brow before murmuring, "yeah."

She swallowed, "Oh."

He looked at her, "Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

She shrank black slightly and said, "Not particularly."

He turned his back to her and moved toward the dresser that was against the far wall, "So why did you come." His voice was surprisingly void of accusation.

She looked down at her hands, "Since you're my half brother, and we are going to be living together as brother and sister for the foreseeable future, I thought it prudent to…"

"Get to know me?" he finished, straightening up from where he had bent to tuck some of his clothes into the bottom drawer.

"Something along those lines," she said. She turned to look up. He had made his way back to the bed. There was a moment of silence, as neither of them was quite sure what to say next. Not liking to keep still, Francesco reached into his rutsack to pull out the last four things. He gestured to the bed, and she lowered herself onto it gingerly.

The first thing he pulled out was his Bible. It was one of the cheap paperback copies that were widely distributed throughout the Holy See. Katarina frowned when she saw it, "That's a book?"

His eyebrows knitted together, "Yeah, it's a copy of the Bible." He moved to put it on the night stand.

She frowned, "I've never seem a book bound like that."

He shrugged, "Father De Luca gave it to me for my birthday a few years ago." He paused for a moment, "My birthday's March 23rd."

She blinked and said, "Oh."

He continued, "You said you wanted to know me better. When's yours?"

"June 18th," she replied hesitantly.

He nodded, and set the book down, adjusting the corners carefully, "And when's Alessando's?

She thought for a moment, "November…2nd."

His lips twitched upwards, "The day after All Saint's Day."

She inclined her head, "That's true, but it doesn't say anything about him, and knowing your birthday tells me nothing of consequence about you."

He turned back to his bag, "I guess that's true." He pulled out his rosary, a simple wooden one his mother had given him and draped it over his bible carefully. He looked thoughtful, "I'm an alterboy. That might reveal something about my character."

She frowned, "You mean you're one of the ones who assists the priest during Mass?"

He ran his fingers gently over the cross on the end of the rosary, "Yeah."

Katarina had noticed those at the altar before, but she'd never actually met one. They were boys from the nearby village who she did not associate with. The thought had never crossed her mind that she might actually meet one of them. "I've never met an altar boy before."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, "And you live with a fucking archbishop?"

Katarina gasped, "You…you shouldn't say…that." Francesco snorted. Katarina glared at him, "I'm serious. It's an affront to God to use such vile language."

Francesco rolled his eyes, "More of an affront to polite society. God created all the words, didn't he? And the only thing in the Ten Commandments is 'Thou shalt not take the Lord's name in vain.'" He reached into his bag and pulled out the last two items.

She frowned. He actually had a point, and it started to make her head spin. "I…suppose," she replied hesitantly. She avoided eye contact by looking at the two items he was setting in front of his bible on the nightstand. One was a worn looking wooden comb, the other was…"Is that a knife?"

Francesco looked at the closed blade for half a second before replying, "Yeah. 'Cenza said I should always carry one."

She stood up, "I should head to my room." She started to make her way out. He was just too different for her to handle anymore of their conversation right now. I was making her head spin.

"Wait, Katarina," he said suddenly. She paused and looked back at him. He wanted to promise that he would never in a million years stab her. He wanted to say that he didn't want to be alone in the house; he wasn't used to it. He wanted to protest that he she still didn't know anything about him, or he about her. He swallowed, "I'll see you at dinner, right?"

She nodded and hummed her agreement before she continued out the door, leaving Francesco to stuff the empty rutsack into an empty drawer.


	7. A Letter Arrives

It had been one week since Francesco had moved in with the Archbishop. It had been quickly discovered that, having had very little in the way of formal education, Francesco, although perfectly literate, was well behind Katarina. Given that Katarina and Alessandro had private tutors, I was decided that Francesco would have lessons with Alessandro. This arrangement didn't work well for either of them, as Alessandro's tutor, a man named Hans, tended to treat Francesco like he was a small child, which caused Francesco to snap at him, which upset Alessandro.

The Archbishop also saw fit to have Francesco take protocol lessons three days a week, in the afternoons when they didn't have lessons. Katarina took Protocol lessons two days a week, and Alessandro once a week, on different days. If they weren't in lessons, Katarina, Alessandro, and Francesco were supposed to stay with Maria and play quietly. Francesco had run off once, but after he was caught and she was punished, he didn't run off again.

It was Saturday afternoon. Alessandro had been sent off to Protocol Lessons right after they were done with their academic lessons, so he sat sullenly in the drawing room, watching Maria and Katarina engage in some childish amusement.

There was a hesitant knock at the drawing room door, before it opened hesitantly to reveal a young maid, who hesitantly cleared her throat as the occupants of the room fell silent, and said, "Pardon me, but a letter arrived for Master Francesco."

He frowned, nonplussed, but stood up and approached her anyway. She held out the letter, and he could immediately tell who it was from. As soon as he took the letter she closed the door quickly. He said, "Thanks, I guess," to the closed door. He didn't like how everyone in the house seemed to be a little bit scared of him. He shook his head slightly and brought the letter to his nose. It smell faintly like the ointment Maria used to rub on bruises and like soot, the way with mother always smelled when she got back from work and like baking bread. He breathed deeply, savoring the scent of home.

Katarina frowned and stood up. Francesco made his way back to the same couch he had been sitting on before and flopped back down. Katarina frowned and his behavior, but took a seat daintily, leaving a fair amount of space between them, "Didn't you learn anything in a week's worth of protocol lessons?"

He smirked, "Sure, I just don't chose to apply it when I don't have to." She hummed and looked away, watching Maria, who had been kneeling on the floor, shift so that she was sitting side saddle.

After a moment, Katarina, still not looking at him, asked, "Who is the letter from?"

Francesco took a moment to look at the envelope. Although there was no name other than his, he recognized the hand writing, "It's from Maria." Glancing sideways and seeing her confusion, he added, "Different Maria. She's my half-sister."

"Oh," Katrina swallowed. It struck her painfully just how little she knew about him, "I didn't know you had another half sister."

"Three," he said as he pulled his knife from his pocket. She inhaled sharply. He frowned as he slit the letter open quickly and tucked his knife back in his pocket, "I'm not going to stab you, you know." He liked to think she'd trust him.

She bit her lip, "I..I knew that." It wasn't that she thought he was going to stab her, per say, it was just that, she'd never known anyone else to carry a knife.

He just sighed quietly and pulled the letter out of the envelope. It was paper, which was cheaper than parchment and he could see that there was writing on both sides. Maria has signed the bottom of the first half. He flipped it over curious as to what was on the back. He smiled when he saw that there was another letter on the back, "Vincenza wrote me a letter too," he said.

Glancing sideways, Katarina asked, "Is Vincenza your half-sister as well?"

He hummed in agreement, "She's the one who told me to always carry a knife."

Katarina looked down at her hands, "What does the letter say?"

He shrugged, "Just news from home."

She frowned, not liking to think that he had a whole other life outside of the one she was part of, but knowing it was true. They sat in silence as he read the letter.

A/N-The letter gets its own chapter.


	8. The Letter

Dear Francesco,

We've all been missing you here. Life just isn't the same without you. Damiana sometimes just sits next to your bed and stares at it, like she expects her to come back or something. I think it's getting on Vincenza's nerves; nonetheless nobody has the heart to tell her to stop. Mama made chicken broccoli ziti too Sunday dinner She almost said, "Francisco will be pleased," but stopped himself. She knows it's one of your favorites. Except there wasn't really any chicken in it, just chicken flavor. You know how that goes. People of noticed you're not around. Padre De Luca came asking about you, so we told him about the letter. He seemed happy for you. Giuseppe said something mean about it, the other day, and Vincenza slapped him. I don't think they'll be any more trouble, but they both have a nasty set of bruises. It did make the others more wary though, since none of them have said anything. Other than that nothing interesting is happening here. Hope you are well.

Mucho Amore,

Maria

Francesco

Life here just sucks here even more now that you're gone. Damiana keeps staring at your bed. It's driving me fucking crazy. Still what the hell am I going to do about it? I'm not dragging him her away from there, or anything. I'm not a bitch. I beat up to Giuseppe the other day, when he made a crack about you. I hope you appreciate that. Lucia and Giovanna are talking you not being here pretty hard. Still that's life. Hope you're doing good.

Vincenza

A/N The two letters are on opposite sides of the same piece of paper


	9. Alessandro finds out

Francesco and Alessandro were sitting in their lesson room. Hans was late. Not that Francesco cared much, but Alessandro was getting nervous. Francesco had seen Alessandro and Katarina conversing earlier, and now Alessandro seemed to want to talk to him about something. Francesco wished he'd just spit it out already. It was infuriating who his brother kept glancing at him, almost as if he was afraid to speak.

Finally Francesco couldn't stand it any longer. He turned to his brother and snapped, "Just spit it out already."

Alessandro flinched back. Francesco frowned and reached out his hand, laying it on his brother's shoulder. He didn't like how Alessandro was getting to be more and more afraid of him. Alessandro looked up at his brother and said, "Katarina said you got a letter yesterday."

Francesco removed his hand from Alessandro's shoulder, and lay it back on his lap, "I did."

Alessandro took a deep breath, "She told me it was from your other half sisters who aren't our half sisters, who are still in Naples."

Francesco looked down at his hands, "It was." He paused, then amended, "Or they were. I was two separate letters, one from Maria, and one from Vincenza.

Alessandro frowned, "You never told me about them."

Francesco turned to look at him brother. He took a deep breath in, almost said something, changed him mind, and exhaled. He spoke slowly, "Only because I knew you'd never meet them."

Alessandro bit his lip, "Do you have any other half-sisters?"

Francesco looked away, "Three. Damiana, who's a little touched in the head, and can't write, and Lucia and Giovanna, who are about as old as you." He added, "And I'm the only boy," quietly, more to himself than to his brother.

Alessandro looked up at him, "Well you're not the only boy anymore." Francesco turned and gave him a wan smile. Alessandro blushed slightly and he looked down, "Are you going to write about Katarina and me when you write back?"

Francesco shrugged, "I haven't figured out what I'm going to write back yet."

Alessandro glanced up at his brother, before returning his gaze to his lap, "You won't write anything bad about us, will you."

Francesco rolled his eyes, "Of course not."

Alessandro smiled slightly, and the two of them lapsed into silence, until Hans finally arrived.

A/N- I know it's short, and a little boring, but I felt like I had to post, and I wanted to write more of the two of them interacting. The next thing will be Francesco's response to the letters.


	10. Drafting letters home

After dinner each night, Francesco, Katarina and Alessandro had what was called quiet study time, where they sat together in the lesson room, just the three of them, and worked on whatever task their tutor might have assigned them. If they didn't have any work to do, they could doodle or write or simply stare off into space, as long as they sat their quietly.

The night after he received the letters from Maria and Vincenza, during quiet study time, Francesco set about writing them back.

He took his pen and began writing, "Dear everybody," He scratched that out and began again, "My dearest sisters." Vincenza might say it wasn't right, but it seemed a little more appropriate. He kept going. "Thank you so much for your letters." He scratched that out. It sounded a little overly-sincere, even if he was grateful.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized he needed to write two letters, one to Maria, and another to Vincenza. And if he were going to do that, he should probably write one to the twins, and one to Damiana, so she wouldn't feel left out. And of course one to his mother.

He took the letter he had started and crumpled it up, earning him odd looks from Katarina and Alessandro. He ignored them, and set to work on the first of his letters.

A/N-Each of the letters will have its own chapter.


	11. First Letter to Vincenza

Vincenza,

I got your letter. I guess I should thank you for writing it, seeing as it made life more tolerable here. You always said not to complain if you had a roof over your head and food in your stomach, so I guess I shouldn't complain, but you'd hate it here. Katarina and Alessandro and I have to take these protocol lessons, which are like being lectured about good behavior by Maria, only worse, because it's for an hour and you just sit there and listen. Plus, everyone, especially Katarina and Alessandro, is so nervous around me. There's a girl here who's also Maria, who works for the archbishop, and she's the only person in the fucking house who's not afraid of me, except maybe the archbishop himself, who's too busy praying and directing bishops and stuff to be around much. Other than that, it's not too bad here, but I could use someone like you around. Be careful, and remember to go to confession.

Francesco


	12. First letter to Maria

Dear Maria,

Thank you for your letter. It's good to know you still care about me. I think you'll be glad to hear that I'm studying all the time now. Alessandro and I have lessons together, every day except Sunday, with a teacher called Hans. He teaches us in Latin, but his accent is very thick, and I'm going to ask him to teach me how to speak German, because that's what everyone in city speaks, although we speak Italian at the house. I'm the oldest here, and it's an interesting change. The Archbishop did hire a young woman to look after Katarina and Alessandro, and now me, because they don't have an older sister. She is also named Maria. I love you guys and I miss all of you.

Mucho Amore,

Francesco


	13. First Letter to Lucia and Giovanna

Dear Lucia and Giovanna,

I miss you guys. You're too young to remember, but back when our father was alive, he used to tell us about Katarina and Alessandro, the two younger children he had. I finally got to meet them. They aren't bad to be around, but I'd rather be back with you guys. Alessandro is just about the same age as you two, and I think it would do him good if the three of you could meet. He's so scared of everything, even me. I wish he wasn't scared of me. I think you would like the Archbishops house, and I know that you would like Maria, who's different from our Maria, but is still very nice. Most of the time Katarina, Alessandro and I stay with her when we're not in lessons, because the Archbishop is so busy. I wish I was home with you and the others, and I hope that you are doing well.

Mucho Amore,

Francesco


	14. First Letter to Damiana

Dear Damiana,

I wish I were back in Naples, so I could hold you and tell you not to listen, and that it's just voices, and calm you when you get violent, but I'm here in Cologne, and I can't come back. The best I can do is write that I am still your brother and that I still love you and hope that you're in the right frame of mind to understand that when you read the letter. This is true, no matter what the voices may tell you. I know it's hard, but there's Satan in the world as well as God, and you need to stay strong. Please. Please stay strong, and don't hurt anybody. Please.

Amore, as always,

your fratello,

Francesco

A/N, sorry it took me so long to continue this. In the next chapter, there'll be more interactions with Alesandro and Katarina, then maybe a time-skip.


	15. Memories of a Death

When he had finished writing his letters, Francesco reached for the box of sealing wax and seal that he knew was kept on the upper shelf of the lesson room. He brought the box back to the table and opened it up. Inside were three sticks of sealing wax, one red, one white and one gold, along with a sealing stamp made of gold or some similarly colored metal. Francesco was about to light the sealing wax when he glanced down at the design on the seal. He frowned, then remarked, "The seal is different."

Catarina glanced up from the sums she was working on. "What do you mean?"

"It's not the archbishop's seal," Francesco stated, remembering the seal on the envelop he had torn open in Naples what felt like forever ago, "And it's not my...our father's seal either."

Catarina glanced at the seal in Francesco's hand, but she'd seen it before and knew what it looked like. "That's the Sfroza family crest. When our father was Pope, he used a different seal that was destroyed promptly following his death, and never used by anyone other than him. What do you need the seal for anyway?"

"I need to seal the letters to my sisters," said Francesco, "but it can't be true. Someone must have used it after his death."

Catarina's eyes narrowed. "How would you know?"

Francesco bit his lip, "Because they used his seal to send the letter saying he was dead."

Catarina looked shocked, "What?"

Francesco sighed. "He...he always used his seal on letters to my mother and letters to me as well, and we were always so glad to receive a letter with that seal. Then, one Sunday, a letter came for her, with his seal, and she was so happy..." his breath hitched, "but when she opened it, she turned white...I remember it exactly; Damiana was sitting in a corner and Maria had one of the twins,Lucia, I think and was at the stove, stirring the Polenta, and Vincenza had Giovanna in one arm, and my mother started stuttering, then burst out crying, and Vincenza grabbed the letter with her free hand, and said, 'Fuck, he's dead.' The I said, 'don't say that.' then she thrust it at me and said, 'Just read it, Bastardo,' and then I read the letter, and..." He trailed off, and took a deep breath in, trying not to cry, especially not in front of his little sister. He clenched his hands into fists.

He kept talking, because he wasn't sure what else to do, and he felt like now that he'd started he should tell his story all the way through. "Well, I was sure after that, and it was like a blow to the stomach, then Giovanna started crying and Vincenza told her to shut up, then Maria scolded her then Vincenza said something about the letter, and then Lucia started crying, and Maria grabbed the letter to read for herself, then Damiana comes up and asks what's wrong in her normal voice, and Vincenza who isn't think straight tells her, and after a minute, she starts screaming 'No!' with her hands over her ears and banging her head on the floor, then my mother tells us to go to bed, or something, and we listen, with Maria taking the twins, and me and Vincenza dragging Damiana because we didn't know what else to do."

He finished his story and takes a deep shaky breath in, wiping his eyes on his sleeve and sniffing. Alessandro who hadn't been listening to the conversation, and probably didn't understand everything that Francesco said, climbed into his brother's lap and threw his arms around him. Francesco returned the hug and said, "That was years ago. Anyways, my point was, someone must have used his seal to send that letter. They probably destroyed it afterwards though." He looked away, cheeks burning."

Catarina nodded slowly. "I suppose...I'm sorry."

Francesco refused to look at her. "You probably have memories just as bad."

Catarina looked away, remembering the night she had fled from the screams of her dying parents. "You're right. I...let's not talk of such things."

Alessandro, still perched on Francesco's lap looked from one to the other. "What's going on?"

Francesco stroked his little brother's hair. "Nothing. Do you want to help me seal the letters?"

Catarina went back to her sums, smiling, glad that her brothers were getting along, at least for now.

A/N-That was emotionally exhausting to write. I'm going to skip ahead to Maria and Vincenza's replies next, and maybe come back to Catarina and Alessandro later.


End file.
